


coughing up new lungs

by ironicpatriot



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Avengers - Freeform, Multi, S.Coups as Captain America
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 20:09:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11342376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironicpatriot/pseuds/ironicpatriot
Summary: “anything wrong, captain choi?”he swallows around the bile rising in his throat, terrified that he fought a battle he never had the chance to win, the void-like quicksand in his head a slow but horrible reminder that no matter what he did, he’d still lose somehow.





	coughing up new lungs

**Author's Note:**

> the idea of seungcheol going through what captain america did legit kept bugging me. i'm a bit of a marvel fanatic since i was a kid. i'm thinking of making this an entire universe, wherein the members of seventeen experience the world of marvel. i've given most of the members a role already but i haven't ironed it all out yet lmao.

his eyelashes flutter as he slowly regains consciousness, his brown eyes opening for the first time in too long.

he stares at his surroundings, feeling as if everything around him was plastic. he didn’t where there feeling come from.

a working radio, droning on about the local news and how here was a robbery downtown. the walls are painted a clean white. the curtains flowing meaning there’s an open window to let the wind in, but he hears nothing from outside. no cars, so not in the city? no birds chirping or the general sound of nature either, so where was he?

he clutches at the sheets under him and feels cold all of a sudden. even the air feels wrong. somehow.

“captain choi,” an unassuming but sweet voice calls out, and seungcheol slowly looks up at the nurse walking in. she’s pretty, the kind of beauty that makes you want to stare; her smile upturned at the edge and pleasant like a cat’s. it’s one of those smiles that you can’t help but smile back in return

he frowns.

something about this entire situation makes seungcheol’s hairs raise.

“where am i?” he asks first, his voice low and rough with disuse. “who are you?”

“in the hospital,” she chirps back, holding a clipboard to her chest, her bright red lipstick sticking to the back of his lids when he blinks. “I’m your nurse, and I must say, captain. you caused quite the stir with the nurses.”

the implications leaves a flirtatious edge to poke at seungcheol, but he doesn’t react. he lets the pause wash over them, his hackles rising, “no. really.” he says firmly, quiet but intent as he stares the woman down. she doesn’t show anything in her eyes except for a little confusion but he can see the way her other hand is hidden behind her clipboard. “who are you? _where am i?”_

“captain, as I said—”

“I don’t know who you think you’re kidding here, but that radio just said that it’s the 15th of july of 1943,” he says slowly, standing up from his bed, “and that date passed a week before I went down with the plane. I have good memory, ma’am.”

he inhales a measured breath and wonders when he’ll get used to how easy it is now, no rattling and no coughing, “so either I went back in time, or I woke up to a place trying to con me into thinking I’m safe and sound,”

“of course not, sir, please calm down.” she stutters, stepping back for every step he takes towards her. he knows how scarily he looms now, especially when she has to tilt her head back to look him in the eye, but she stays in a relaxed stance and doesn’t seem to completely cower. “you just woke up, I understand if you’re a bit disoriented.” seungcheol could see how steadily she stares back at him, not even bothering to look around or call for help. is she hydra? why didn’t they just kill him? why didn’t he wake up to them opening him up or taking all his blood?

he takes a split second of disregarding the idea of hurting her, if she were really hydra then she’d kill herself afterwards anyway and she were a civilian then she’d have survived the scare. he pushes his way past her quickly, shoving through the doors barefooted, knowing full well that he’d be pursued in no time. outside is less like a hospital room and more like a strange facility.

when he turns a corner, suddenly he’s surrounded by men with guns. he skids to a halt and makes a break for it, hoping for the best and slamming into a wall. the wall gives in under the momentum and sheer strength, and he manages to sprint past the multiplying amount of enemies.

once he manages to get out, he’s horrified and shell shocked by what’s in front of him where’s an overwhelming amount of cars passing him by, a cacophony of loud noises; voice overlapping in a jumble of confusion. his sensitive ears ring from the force of it all and he blinks and squints at the bright lights and obnoxious colors that seem to attack him from all sides. there’s a large screen on what sems to be the tallest building he’s ever seen, showing a man with a flowing fringe and a glowing sword in his chest.

he feels like he’s been thrown off a cliff and has lost his chance of seeing the ground.

seungcheol pants, ready to keel over.

“captain.” a gruff voice, almost in a growl, calls out from behind him. he whirls around to meet his stare and is faced with an intimidating set of features; a sharp jawline, slits of untrusting eyes, and a pointed nose. for someone who’s fought the red skull though, seungcheol feels no fear. if they want to fight, he’ll give them all he’s got. “you were asleep under the ice for a long time, captain. we won the war.”

“who are you?” he spits, no trust in his eyes.

“jeon wonwoo.” he says slowly, as if waiting for a reaction. when he gets none, he continues on casually, as if they weren’t blocking incoming traffic with the sheer number of his men, “director of PLEDIS, a government funded agency built to protect the world,”

he unhinges his jaw, clenching it repeatedly; chewing his words, “what year is it?”

“it’s 2015,” the other man replies, his words echoing in the war veteran’s head, “welcome to the 21st century.” there’s dry sarcasm behind his words, and seungcheol hates how nonchalant he is in the fact of another man’s world crumbling before him. he doesn’t even spare another glance at the reinforcements still ready to shoot him.

he takes a calmer look around, his shoulders aching as if the world resettled itself on it.

“anything wrong, captain choi?”

he swallows around the bile rising in his throat, terrified that he fought a battle he never had the chance to win, the void-like quicksand in his head a slow but horrible reminder that no matter what he did, he’d still lose somehow.

lose the fight, you die. win the fight, you come back to nothing but ashes and shards of broken mirrors reflecting your grief, scattered in front of you.

he’d laugh at how ridiculous this all was if he didn’t learn by now that laughing might lead to crying.

“it’s just—” he forgets for a second what action it takes to breathe, and hears the echo of _don’t be late don’t be late don’t be late_ bang around in his head, the ache in his heart hunching him down as if he were small again, sickly and desperate to look for his purpose in the good fight, to help end the war that made them suffer, “I missed my date,”

did he really survive the crash? or is this the hell they preached?


End file.
